Marigolds for Malice

by Bailey Cattrell

  “Chief Gibbon does have a full plate,” I agreed.

  “He thinks someone broke into the museum to steal that gold nugget, right?”

  I sighed. “He did mention something about that. It’s certainly plausible.”

  “So, Eureka was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Maria looked away, obviously unsatisfied.

  Silence settled over us for a few moments, broken only by the rumble of Nabokov’s purring as he strolled down the counter toward Maria. I watched as he sat down next to her elbow and lowered his head. She knew the drill and lowered her own, so he could butt her forehead with his own velvety one. Soon she was rubbing the space behind his ears, and his eyes were closed with happiness. The gentle smile on her face reminded me that Nabby had his own kind of comfort to offer during rough times.

  I leaned forward and put my elbows on the counter. “Okay, say the chief is wrong about the gold nugget being the motive for Eureka’s murder.”

  Her head came up.

  “I’m not saying he is wrong,” I clarified. “The guy has a lot of experience and knows his business. But hypothetically, if we were to entertain other motives, do you think someone might want that old manuscript badly enough to kill for it?”

  She shrugged. “Nah. I mean, maybe.”

  “It’s missing,” I pointed out, slightly disappointed. It wasn’t that I wanted Eureka to have been killed because of that mysterious old sheaf of papers. I just wanted to know why it had been stolen. More importantly, I wanted it back.

  “Yeah.” Maria sounded doubtful. “But no one seemed that interested in it besides you two.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. Astrid’s new love interest and Odell Radcliffe were both standing close enough to reach out and steady me when I stumbled after touching the manuscript. They must have been looking at it, too, but I was so intent on getting close to it that I hadn’t noticed.

  My head tipped to one side as I regarded Maria. “Okay, if the killer wasn’t there to steal the gold nugget or the manuscript, then what do you think happened?”

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Everyone seems to think Eureka was killed because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. What if she was killed precisely because someone knew she’d be there, alone and vulnerable?”

  I frowned. “Like who? Did she have any enemies?” My eyes widened. “Maria, what do you know?”

  A hesitant, pensive expression crossed her face. “I don’t know anything.”

  Still puzzled, I asked, “If someone wanted to get Eureka alone, why do it at Heritage House? Why not go to her house? She lived by herself, didn’t she?”

  “She did, but she had a security system.”

  “In Poppyville? Gosh, that puts this whole thing in a different light, Maria. She must have been afraid of someone.”

  “Well . . .” Maria drew the word out. “It was her sister who put the security system in, actually.”

  “She has a sister in town?” I heard the surprise in my voice, and realized I really knew very little about Eureka Sanford.

  “Not anymore. See, her sister died a couple of years ago and left her house to Eureka. When Eureka retired from Berkeley, she decided to move here and live in it.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Which already had a security system. I guess that would make it harder for her to be attacked in her home.” I looked up. “I wonder why her sister installed it. Did you know her?”

  “Not really. Her name was Victoria Perez, and she worked in the county clerk’s office for years. However, from some things Eureka told me, I could make a guess about why her sister installed that security system.”

  I propped my chin on my hand. “Do tell.”

  “Her son’s wife had threatened her.”

  “Victoria’s son.” I spoke slowly, trying to get it straight in my mind.

  “Right. Eureka’s nephew, Warren Perez. He and his wife live here in Poppyville. His new wife, I should say. Apparently, he divorced the old one and picked up a trophy model.” She rolled her eyes. “Trixie. Ugh. His mother didn’t approve, and there were, um, issues between her and her new daughter-in-law.”

  “Issues that necessitated a security system?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I’m only guessing here, Ellie. But here’s the thing—Victoria hated Trixie so much that she left her house to her sister instead of her son. And that did not make Warren or his new honey happy at all.”

  “Oh ho . . .”

  She went on. “They were furious at Victoria, and at Eureka as well. Trixie suggested rather strongly that Eureka do the right thing and give the house to them anyway. Eureka refused, saying she couldn’t go against her sister’s wishes like that, but that she would leave it to them when she died.” Her hand banged down on the counter in emphasis, eliciting a baleful look from Nabby.

  I whistled. “Did you tell Lupe this when she walked you home last night?”

  “Not really. I was too stunned and worried to talk much, but I did mention that the police should look into Eureka’s nephew as a suspect. I mean, I could be wrong, but—”

  “No, it’s good that you told Lupe that,” I interrupted. And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I said, “Tell me more about Warren Perez.”

  She gave Nabby another scratch behind the ears. “He’s in his forties. Trixie’s closer to thirty. He sells farm equipment around the valley. Has that dealership on the Silver Wells Highway?”

  I nodded. “I’ve driven by it. It’s big. Looks profitable.”

  Maria lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Hard to tell with some businesses. I’ve heard rumors.”

  “Is the house she inherited from Victoria worth a lot?”

  She looked at her watch and slid off the bar stool. “It’s nice enough. Older but well cared for. But it’s on Swallow Avenue, and that location alone would increase the price significantly.”

  “No kidding.”

  Swallow Avenue had been the ritziest street in Poppyville during the height of the gold rush, and still was a coveted address, at least in the older part of town. It was lined with houses built by the most successful merchants who supplied the prospectors—and a few homes built by profits garnered from less reputable means. Pauline “Poppy” Thierry, local madam, city founder, and eventually the namesake of the town, had died in her mansion on Swallow Avenue when she was eighty-eight.

  “Do you know the address?” I asked.

  Maria gave me a knowing smile. “Five twenty-five.” She turned toward the front door but held my gaze. “Thanks, Ellie.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Just do what you can. For Eureka.”

  * * *

  • • •

  MAGGIE Clement came in at noon on Thursdays so I could run midweek errands in the afternoon. I had the deposit ready for the bank and a grocery list to restock my larder. I’d added a few things to have on hand for entertainment purposes now that Ritter was back in town. I smiled to myself as I imagined sipping wine and nibbling on cheese in the garden before regaling him with my coq au vin.

  I’d also made a copy of the old photograph of “Alma” before replacing it in the envelope and sealing them both in a plastic bag. I’d handled it very carefully once I realized what I was dealing with, but not when I’d first picked it up the night before. As I recalled, Mayor Ward hadn’t been all that careful with it, either. So, my fingerprints and his—and who knew how many others’—might be on the photo. I could only hope some of them might lead the police to Eureka’s killer. Dropping it by the police station was first on my list of errands.

  Precisely on the hour, Maggie strode through the door. A sixty-something grandmotherly sort, her blond hair came from a bottle, her jewelry from Rexall Drugs, and her big heart from a lifetime of practicing psychology from behind a bar. She made the best dirty mar
tini I’d ever had the pleasure to drink, babysat her grandkids every chance she got, and worked harder than any one person I knew.

  “Elliana Allbright, what have you gotten yourself into now?” was her greeting as she breezed past me to stow her purse in the office. “Harris is fit to be tied.”

  I felt my brow wrinkle. “Why? What does he care?”

  “Thinks you going around and finding dead bodies somehow reflects badly on him.”

  “Good. At least something worthwhile came out of this tragedy,” I muttered.

  She came out of the office, tying on one of the chefs’ aprons I kept on hand. “I know you don’t mean that because you are too nice a person.”

  “Not when it comes to Harris.”

  Maggie grinned. “I can relate, honey. That man is only my boss, but sometimes I want to take him over my knee and teach him what his mother should have. I can only imagine what it was like to be married to him. Now.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the shop. “What do you have for me to do today?”

  I set her to work printing and cutting out tags for the milk bath I’d made earlier, called to Dash, and went across the street where my old Wrangler was parked. As I climbed inside, I considered how to order my errands.

  “Police station first. Then the bank and Doggone Gourmet,” I said to Dash, who was sitting in the passenger seat. He grinned at the mention of the purveyor of his favorite peanut butter treats. “And we’re out of beeswax for lotion bars, so let’s go by the Bee’s Knees for more. We can stock up on clover honey while we’re there.” I started my vehicle and continued my list in my head.

  My metal watering can was leaking, so I needed a new one at the hardware store. As long as I was there, I could pick up kitty litter for Nabby and more heavy plastic to line the planting benches in my greenhouse. Then the wine store for a bottle or two of something nice for Ritter and me to share, and the grocery store last. If I hurried, I might be able to detour by Eureka’s house for a quick look-see.

  I was so distracted by my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice Detective Max Lang coming down the steps of the Hotel California. He had a manila file folder in his hand and strode purposefully toward the parking lot at the side of the building. I slowed and watched as he got into a dark SUV. As he pulled onto Corona, I veered into a parking spot across from the courthouse half a block down and grabbed my cell. He drove by the Wrangler without a glance.

  “Hello, Felicity?”

  “Hey, Ellie.”

  “You at work?”

  “I am.”

  “I just saw Detective Lang coming out of the hotel.”

  She snorted. “You’re at it again, aren’t you?”

  “At what?” But of course I knew what she meant.

  “The girl sleuth thing,” she said. I began to protest, but then stopped.

  For Eureka.

  “I guess I am,” I admitted.

  “Good,” she said. “Max wanted the names of people who stayed here during the last three days.”

  “And you just told him?”

  “Sure. He had a warrant. Gave him a full printout with all the names. Max actually didn’t seem very happy about it.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Said Chief Gibbon wanted him to track down every single person and find out where they were when Eureka was killed.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “That makes me feel better.”

  She laughed. “To know Max is stuck with a bunch of grunt work?”

  “Ha. Well, I don’t mind that a bit. He seems to have avoided the tedious part of crime investigation in the past. But really, I’m happy to know the chief is making sure the t’s are crossed and the i’s dotted in Eureka’s murder case.” I didn’t mention that I not only wanted justice for our friend, but also hoped that finding her killer would mean finding the manuscript.

  “Are they all gone?” I asked. “The people on the list, I mean.”

  “Not all of them. And not all were here for the time capsule ceremony. There’s a wedding this weekend, and some of the people on Max’s list are here for that. But the reporters are gone, and most of the professors. Dr. Radcliffe is the only one left. He had a reservation for four nights.”

  “I wonder why,” I mused.

  “No idea. Try asking him yourself. He’s walking out to sit on the veranda right now.”

  I opened my door and stood on the running board to see down the block. Sure enough, Odell Radcliffe was settling into a wicker chair on the deep porch of the hotel.

  “Has Max already talked to him?”

  “Nope. Just took the printout I gave him and left.”

  I thanked Felicity, and we hung up. I looked at my watch. So many errands. I really didn’t have time to talk with Dr. Radcliffe.

  But it sounded like he’d known Eureka a long time, and Max hadn’t even bothered to check in with him. What had the relationship between Radcliffe and Eureka been? Were they more than colleagues, by any chance? But his daughter—Hallie? No, Haley—was with him. Would he bring his daughter to a romantic assignation? Doubtful. Still, I thought I’d sensed a subtle flirtation between Odell and Eureka before the ceremony the previous afternoon.

  Perhaps he could shed some light on who might want to harm his former colleague. It was also possible he could shed some light on why the Xavier manuscript had been included in a time capsule full of gold rush memorabilia.

  I made a decision. First, I’d take the photograph to Chief Gibbon, and if Odell was still sitting on the veranda of the Hotel California when I was finished, I’d drop by for a chat.

  “Stay here, Dash.” I took a deep breath and opened my door.

  How angry would the chief be about my keeping evidence in a murder investigation overnight?

  * * *

  • • •

  THE police station was in an annex added to the back of the courthouse in the 1970s. The courthouse was still stately and regal, built in the mid-1880s and then updated several times on the inside. The exterior brickwork was original and beautifully maintained over the decades. The annex, however, was ugly, boxy, and luckily tucked out of sight from the street.

  The tiny waiting room boasted dirty linoleum, four cheap plastic chairs, and a half-empty bulletin board. Nan looked up from behind the glassed-in reception desk, nodded at me with a grin, and buzzed the door open.

  I pushed through the door and found myself separated from her by a narrow counter. Three desks lined the walls of the small room, and a hallway with an EXIT sign over it led to the back door.

  “What can we do for you, Ellie?” Nan had big bones, big hair, and a big voice.

  Slipping off my daypack, I asked, “Is the chief in?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “I think so. Hey, Chief!” she called. “You in?”

  His voice drifted from an open door down the hallway. “Can it wait?”

  She looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

  “Not really,” I said.

  “Nope,” she called. “It’s Ellie Allbright.”

  Chief Gibbon appeared in the door of his office, frowned, and then beckoned for me to come back. I wended my way past the desks, sidestepped an overflowing trash can, and stopped in his doorway.

  The chief wore a dark suit with a crisp blue shirt and a red tie. He was standing behind his desk, flipping through several papers in his hand. His sharp crow eyes glanced up at me, then back at the papers. “Is this about Eureka Sanford?”

  “Yes.”

  He found what he was looking for and put it in the open briefcase on his desk. Then he snapped the case shut and perched on the edge of the desk to give me his full attention.

  “I’m already late for a meeting,” he said.

  I unzipped my pack and took out the plastic bag with Alma’s picture in it. “I found this on the ground in Library Park. Eureka’s
killer must have taken it with the other items from the time capsule and then dropped it.” I handed it to him. “My fingerprints might be on it, but I put it in the plastic just in case the killer’s are, too.”

  One eyebrow slowly rose as he took it. “In Library Park? When exactly did you find this?”

  I hesitated. However, where—and when—I found it might be important to his investigation. I sighed and told the truth.

  His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned as he listened. When I was finished, he regarded me for a long moment. “You know you shouldn’t have taken this.”

  I looked at the floor. “Yeah.”

  “You say Lang wouldn’t listen when you tried to tell him?”

  My head came back up. “Yes! He’s—”

  Gibbon held up his hand. “I know very well what Detective Lang is. And I also know you could have insisted on seeing me or shown him what you found even if he dismissed you at first.”

  “I guess so,” I mumbled.

  “I’ll admit this into evidence and get it to the lab.” His gaze flicked to the big round clock on the wall. “And hopefully the budgeting committee will understand why I’m later than usual to our meeting. I need you to fill out a written statement about finding this evidence. Include all the details.” He paused. “All of them.”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  He stood and reached for his briefcase.

  “Um, have you found out anything so far?” I was blocking his way. “About the murder, I mean?”

  “Just go fill out your statement, Ms. Allbright,” he said. “Nan will get the paperwork for you. Give it to her when you’re done.”

  My lips pressed together, but I said, “Okay,” and turned to go.

  “Ms. Allbright?”

  I turned back.

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” His harsh eyes softened. “We’re going to find Dr. Sanford’s killer.”

  Slowly, I nodded my head. “Good.”